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Use of songs, raps, poems

3.
…Lessons start at the school from Unite as CHILDREN make the changehell Dont let things stay the sameClassrooms more like a prison cell We want freedom - no more crimeSitting in his blood stained clothes We want freedom all the timeTears in his eyes and a busted nose No more Singhs will die this wayBully boys dont stop their taunting Unite as CHILDREN - fight themNo teacher saw his daily haunting today!No teacher said youre a lion Singh CHILDREN UNITEBe BRAVE, be STRONG but never ITS TIME TO FIGHTgive in THE BULLY BOYS THE RACIST NOISESchool bell rings:"Bye-Bye friends I DONT LIVE IN DREADaint coming to hell again!" TELL THE TEACHER INSTEADRunning home as fast as he can YOURE NOT ALONENo one knows his secret plan LET YOUR TROUBLES BE KNOWNUp the stairs for freedom callHe escapes from his body wallsFree at last from the violenceHangs himself in deathly silence.Where he ends we beginBullies wont kill another Singh

4.
Wilfred Owen (1893-1918)Dulce et Decorum Est As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, In all my dreams before my helpless sight, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed He plunges at me, guttering, choking,through sludge, drowning. Till on the haunting flares we turned our If in some smothering dreams, you toobacks could pace And towards our distant rest began to Behind the wagon that we flung him in,trudge. And watch the white eyes writhing in his Men marched asleep. Many had lost their face,boots, His hanging face, like a devils sick of sin; But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; If you could hear, at every jolt, the bloodall blind; Come gargling from the froth-corrupted Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots lungs, Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cuddropped behind. Of vile, incurable sores on innocent Gas! GAS! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of tongues, –fumbling, My friend, you would not tell with such high Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time; zest But someone still was yelling out and To children ardent for some desperate glory,stumbling The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est And floundring like a man in fire or lime . . . Pro patria mori. Dim through the misty panes and thickgreen light,